


Visitation

by Hadespuppy



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Episode: s04e13 True Colors, M/M, PWP, Prison Sex, Unsafe Sex, nothing else to see here folks, would not recommend trying at home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hadespuppy/pseuds/Hadespuppy
Summary: On his last night in Iron Heights, Barry gets an unexpected visitor in his cell. I'm sure you can guess what happens next.





	Visitation

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still sad that we got Barry in prison, with no Len to show him how it's done. This here's a missing scene that would definitely never have made it onto the screen anyway, but we can pretend.

Barry realises there is someone in his cell before he even opens his eyes. It’s one of the new skills he has acquired since being locked up; or maybe it’s just that everything is so regimented, day after day exactly the same routine, that as soon as something is out of place, he can feel it. He tries to keep his breathing even and peek through his lashes, but he’s never been that great at deception, so all he gets is the impression of a long frame leaning casually against the cell door opposite his narrow bed before the man speaks.

“Well, Barry, I’d say I’m surprised to see you still in here, but I’m really not.”

“Snart?” Barry replies, blinking a few times to make sure he isn’t seeing things. “How are you -?”

Snart waves a hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. I just dropped in to congratulate you on your brilliant escape. Of course, you always were too noble for your own good. Otherwise this could have been a  _ real _ celebration”

Barry feels a warm tingle run down his spine at the familiar drawl. “I still have an appeal tomorrow. Cecile’s doing everything she can.”

“Cecile has nothing other than ‘but he’s such a nice guy.’ It might be true, but it won’t beat a murder rap”

Barry sits up. He wants to argue, but he knows what an impossible position his friend is in. Unless the team comes up with something, she really doesn’t have anything to work with beyond the flimsy defence they had used at the trial. “They’ll get me out.” he says finally.

Snart smirks “I’m sure they will. After all, we can’t have Central City going too long without its favourite hero. How will the cats get down from the trees and old ladies get their purses back?” He levers himself off the wall and takes a step towards Barry, letting one hand trail over the metal foot of the bed. “In the meantime, how are you enjoying the accommodations?”

“It’s fine,” Barry shrugs. “I’ve had worse”

“I never cared for it myself,” Snart says, softer than before. “Didn’t like being cooped up for too long. I imagine someone with your energy, you must be practically vibrating out of your skin; waiting for a chance to run”

He’s looking straight at Barry, and even in the semi darkness of the cell the intensity of his blue eyes is not something Barry can tear himself away from. The shiver in his spine returns and starts making itself a home low in his belly. There’s a subtext here that he isn’t quite catching, but he’s never backed down from Snart before, and he isn’t about to start now. 

“I’m doing ok. I ran to China just the other day”

“Did you now?” Snart’s smirk returns. “Rescuing someone no doubt. And then you came skipping back here like a good little boy scout. Why am I not surprised?”

Barry flashes out of the bed and into Snart’s personal space. “What do you want, Snart?” he asks, suppressing the urge to grab the older man by the jacket and throw him against a wall. He just got back to genpop, he can’t afford to draw any more attention to himself.

“I told you. I wanted to congratulate you on your escape. Couldn’t have done it better myself. Except for the actually escaping part of course” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, drawing Barry’s eyes with the movement. Has his mouth always been so plush? “And since you’ve decided that the prison life is for you, I thought I’d check and make sure you weren’t becoming bunk buddies with some gorilla named Bubba”

Barry snorts. “Aww, Snart, I didn’t know you cared”

“Let’s just say I’ve learned to appreciate the merits of mutual assistance”

Barry searches Snart’s face. His expression is the same mocking smile he always has, but there’s something behind his eyes that Barry still can’t place. Or maybe just doesn’t want to acknowledge yet. “Well thanks, I guess. I’m ok, really.”

Snart raises a hand, brushing some invisible lint from Barry’s shoulder, then leaves it there, just barely touching. “Are you?” he asks quietly.

Barry swallows. The warm shiver in his belly has turned into a flutter and now, to borrow a phrase from the inscrutable man in front of him, he does feel like he’s vibrating out of his skin. Only that single point of contact at the junction of his neck and his shoulder is keeping him grounded, and it isn’t quite enough.

“Snart -” he begins, but doesn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“Yes Barry?” Snart replies, still in that soft tone that Barry doesn’t know what to make of.

“I don’t think - “

“Don’t think, Barry, just do”

It seems to happen in slow motion, like he’s dropped into the speed force, but Barry feels helpless to prevent what is happening. Snart raises his other hand to cup Barry’s face while the one on his shoulder grips him tighter and pulls him in. It is the barest brush of lips.

Soft.

Warm.

For a moment Barry freezes. And then everything speeds up again with a crash, and Barry is gripping Snart’s jacket in both hands, keeping him close as he chases Snart’s lips with a kiss that is far less chaste. It’s the most natural thing in the world. Of course they would end up here. Barry pushes in closer and Snart stumbles back against the bed, pulling Barry down with him. They end up with Snart sprawled half on the bed, half leaning against the wall, and Barry on top of him, still clutching his jacket, their legs tangled together.

Barry holds Snart’s gaze for a heartbeat, letting the enormity of the inevitable outcome of this visit sink in, before breaking into a grin and dropping his head to Snart’s chest to muffle a laugh.

“What’s got you so amused?”

Barry lifts his head, laughter still tugging at his lips. “Will you be my Bubba?” he asks, before descending into another fit of giggles.

Snart grins, a true smile, without any trace of his usual cynicism. “Looking for the full prison experience, are you, Barry?” He threads long fingers into Barry’s unruly hair and tugs, pulling the younger man up so they are face to face. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Barry swallows. “Um, yeah,” he replies. Then, more confidently, “Definitely.”

Snart’s grin turns more shark like and he pulls Barry in for another searing kiss. They kiss like they had once fought, all teeth and passion; fighting for control for the joy of it, not for any real desire to dominate. Snart uses his grip on Barry’s hair to tilt his head back so he can nip at the junction of his jaw, eliciting a small needy whimper. He licks a stripe up the taught tendon, then bites again, harder.

Barry’s groan is more audible this time, and his hips twitch towards Snart, seeking more contact.

“Would you hold my pocket?” Snart whispers low and dirty into Barry’s ear, punctuating his words with a nibble. “Would you be a good prag?”

Barry shudders. He can’t possibly describe how that image feels, so he snakes his arms under Snart’s jacket and pulls himself closer. The movement brings their groins together, with Barry’s leg slotted between Snart’s thighs. Barry’s more than half hard already, and he can feel Snart’s answering erection through the thin fabric of his prison issue pants. He makes small abortive movements with his hips, relishing the feel of the rough denim against his cock.

Snart sighs against Barry’s throat. He releases Barry’s hair so he can bracket his face between his hands and capture his lips with a deep kiss.

“I think. If that’s what you want,” he says between kisses, “then there are entirely too many clothes between the two–”

With a flash of lightning, Barry has them both stripped and back on the narrow bed. He grins down from where he’s now straddling Snart. “Better?”

Snart blinks at the sudden change in position. His hands are on Barry’s thighs, and he kneads his fingers into the strong muscle, pulling them apart slightly. He lets his eyes travel over the speedster’s frame, all long planes and sharp angles, before brushing a hand up over his flat stomach to tweak at a nipple. Barry lets out a short gasp.

“I think that as pretty as this sight is, if you are going to be on your knees, there are better things you can be doing.”

Barry’s eyes dilate at the suggestion. He rolls his hips one more time, then begins to move backwards, but Snart stops him with a hand on his arm.

“No, on the floor,” he says, just this side of an order. His eyes are darker even than the dim light of the cell can account for.

Barry scrambles off the bed, letting Snart sit up so he can kneel between his widespread thighs. He licks his lips, eyes flitting between Snart’s face and the stiff cock in front of him. He leans forward to inhale the musky scent. If he weren’t so keyed up by this, whatever it is they were doing, it would almost be comforting. He nuzzles in deep, parting his lips to place sucking, open mouthed kisses on the silky skin just under the base of Snart’s cock.

Snart lets out a breathy sigh and parts his thighs farther to give Barry better access. Barry answers by licking a stripe up the seam of his balls before returning to his shaft with more sucking kisses. He makes his way, gently but thoroughly along Snart’s cock; up one side and down the other, skipping over the sensitive head entirely.

Barry sneaks a glance up at the object of his ministrations. Snart’s lips are parted, and his left hand is hovering just above Barry’s head, seemingly caught between the desire to touch and to let Barry have free reign for the moment. Barry smiles to himself and turns his head to place a soft kiss on the inside of Snart’s thigh, then follows it with a sharp bite, just this side of hard enough to cause true pain.

Snart’s hand fists itself in Barry’s hair, but he doesn’t pull Barry back, or try to guide him in any way, so Barry repeats the sequence, this time eliciting a low groan. Feeling emboldened, Barry pulls back and locks eyes with his one time enemy as he grasps his cock firmly in one hand, pulling the foreskin back so the tip is fully exposed.

Maintaining eye contact, Barry leans in and just barely licks at the slit. The cock twitches in his hand, but he holds Snart still with his other hand on the man’s hip. He sucks lightly at it, enveloping more and more of the sensitive skin, wetting it with his mouth so his lips glide up and down in small, effortless movements. He pauses briefly once he has his lips stretched over the whole head, his tongue flat against the underside. Either this is going to work amazingly, or Barry is about to get thrown across the room.

He pulls his lips back a hair and scrapes his teeth over the ridge of Snart’s cockhead. He is rewarded with a full body shudder and a tighter grip in his hair. The sight of Snart’s eyes fluttering almost but not quite closed goes straight to Barry’s own dick, heavy between his legs. He presses harder with his teeth, now truly biting at the firm, spongy flesh. He can feel Snart’s hips jerking under his hands at the intense sensations, and just when he thinks it is about to be to much, and he is going to be pulled off, he opens his jaw as wide as it will go and swallows as much of Snart’s cock as he can.

It’s been a while, and the angle isn’t the best for such things, but he manages a respectable amount, and he can’t help but close his eyes at the feel of firm flesh nudging the back of his throat. He feels the grip in his hair loosen, but not retreat, and takes that as invitation to continue, so he gives himself over to providing a proper blowjob; he bobs up and down, alternately hollowing his cheeks and working his tongue along Snart’s length, still gripping the base tightly in one hand, while the other moves to gently cup and roll his balls in his palm.

Sorely neglected, his own erection throbs. Barry spreads his thighs and arches his back helplessly. He would not stop what he is doing for the world, but he needs something, anything to ease the aching pressure between his legs.

“Fuck, Barry,” Snart groans. “It’s a good thing no one in here knows how good you are at this, or they’d never have left you alone”

Barry is filled with a sudden inexplicable gladness that Snart is here, keeping him safe, letting him do this, and he hums with pleasure.

“Go easy with that,” Snart says. “I intend to fuck that tight little ass of yours, and I’d hate for you to ruin it”

Barry nearly groans again but manages to restrain himself by taking Snart even deeper into his throat. His back is arched, and his knees parted as far as he can and still maintain a decent angle for what he is doing, but the position does nothing to relieve his need for sensation.

He moves his hand, intending just to touch himself, to provide some small relief, but Snart catches it in his own firm grip. He pulls Barry’s hand up and draws his fingers into the wet heat of his mouth. He sucks each one, wetting them thoroughly before letting go with a smack of his lips.

“Open yourself up for me, prag”

It’s a good thing Barry is already on the ground, with the cold floor under his knees, the cock in his mouth, and the hand in his hair anchoring him, because his brain whites out at the instruction. He obeys without thinking, reaching behind himself with now slick fingers to brush at his entrance, then pressing inside.

It isn’t really enough lubrication, spit never is, but he doesn’t care; it feels too good to stop or slow down as he fucks himself on his fingers, taking as much as he can, despite the awkward angle.

Snart cards his fingers through Barry’s hair, settling him into a gentle suckling motion so he can focus on stretching himself further with his fingers. Barry feels like he’s impaled from one end to the other; it’s so much sensation at once, though all of his own doing.

“Gods, do you even know what you look like?” Snart asks reverently. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. I bet you’ve just been waiting for this, waiting for someone to come show you what prison is really like for a pretty boy like you.”

Barry looks up at Snart through dark lashes. He pulls back so he can speak.

“Waiting for you” he says, hearing the truth in his words even as he speaks them. This is more than just a game they are playing, this is–

His thoughts are cut off as Snart hauls him bodily up onto the bed.

“On your knees”

Barry knocks his pillow to the floor as he rushes to comply, long limbs tangling with Snart’s for an awkward moment before he can sort himself out. He finds himself with his ass in the air, knees wide and head down, hips waggling slightly in what he hopes is an enticing gesture. He feels exposed. He shivers with something that is almost, but not entirely, anticipation.

He feels the bed dip as Snart settles himself behind Barry. Long fingers grip his ass, spreading his cheeks apart. He spits harshly on Barry’s hole. The vulgar sound in the relative quiet of the cell is somehow dirtier than anything they have done so far, and Barry shivers again.

Snart smears the saliva around, dipping his fingers slightly into the underprepared sphincter before replacing them with the blunt tip of his cock.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he announces, as if they both didn’t already know what was going to happen next. His drawling statement of fact makes Barry push back against him, eager to get on with it.

Snart grips his hips tightly as he pushes in. The meager lubrication and rushed preparation are not nearly enough to make this easy, and Barry has to bite his own arm to keep from crying out at the burn of the steady, inexorable intrusion. He had felt impaled before, but this is like being split in two. Tears form in his eyes and smear against his forearm. Just when he thinks he can’t possibly take any more, he feels Snart snug against his backside.

Barry breathes heavily, trying desperately to get used to the stretch. He had not expected gentleness, but Snart doesn’t even pause to let him catch his breath, just pulls almost all the way out and then presses back in with the same slow but unrelenting pace. His meta powers ease the way, however, and it isn’t long before the pain turns to something else, and he starts pushing back at each thrust.

“That’s it,” Snart says, running a hand down Barry’s flank. “Take it like a good little prag”

Barry arches his back further, trying to change the angle of his hips so Snart will hit that one spot, but he can’t quite manage it. He turns his head to look over his shoulder. His eyes are glassy and desperate.

“Fuck.”

“Please.”

“I need”

Snart puts a hand between his shoulder blades and shoves him hard into the mattress.

“I know what you need,” he growls, snapping his hips forward. Fireworks burst behind Barry’s eyes as the new angle has Snart hitting his prostate with unerring accuracy. He pushes back wantonly, seeking more. His erection throbs between his legs, bobbing in the air while Snart fucks into him.

“Can you come like this?” Snart asks. Barry struggles to form a coherent thought.

“--”

“Faster,” he manages, and Snart responds by speeding up to an almost punishing pace, still hitting his prostate with each thrust. Barry gives up trying to match him, instead giving himself over to it. The hand that was between his shoulders has slipped up to the back of his neck and is pressing him into the mattress, while the other is still gripping his hip, holding him exactly where Snart wants him. The sounds of ragged breathing and flesh hitting flesh are undeniable. If a guard were to walk by there would be no doubt as to what was happening in the cell, and Barry doesn’t care

If he could think he would describe the feelings as intense; pleasure blurring into pain in a way that is too perfect to be described. It’s like all their interactions, all their battles and sharp words and temporary alliances have been distilled into this one perfect moment.

His orgasm hits him like a speeding train; his body blurring slightly with vibrations and his cock spurting hot fluid over his belly and the bed. As he shudders his way through the aftershocks he is barely aware of Snart losing his rhythm, pounding into him a few more times before emptying himself deep inside, then flopping down onto the bed, still half on top of Barry.

They rest in the afterglow for a moment, each trying to catch their breath. Barry is just about to nod off when he pulls himself out of sleep to nudge Snart with his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, “I think I get why you keep stealing stuff”

Snart blinks at him in confusion.

“If prison is always like this, I’d want to keep coming back too!” Barry grins a megawatt smile at his own joke, and Snart just snorts and shoves at him half-heartedly.

“Only if you’re out there to catch me, Scarlet”

Barry falls asleep before he can think of a response.

~*~

“COUNT”

Barry wakes with a jerk. He must’ve slept in; he usually wakes up when they turn the lights on and has plenty of time to do the usual morning duties and feel halfway put together before morning count. He rubs his hands vigorously over his face in an attempt to wake himself up fully. There’s a crick in his neck, and he finds the explanation when he swings his feet out of bed and kicks his pillow, which is on the floor for some reason.

Half formed images of himself on his knees, of long fingered hands and sharp blue eyes swim up through the haze of sleep, and he blushes furiously.

“Allen. Count!” The CO’s voice barks sharply, interrupting his thoughts. 

Barry looks down at his sleep wear and flashes into regular prison garb, then steps out of his cell before anyone can make it down to the end of the block to reprimand him. If Cecile and the team can just find something to prove his innocence, he won’t be in here much longer. He just has to keep his head down and out of trouble until then. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't obvious from context, a prag is basically a prison bitch, someone who offers sexual services in exchange for protection. I borrowed that term from OZ. Holding the pocket was a thing they did on Prison Break to indicate someone was in essence a prag. The unfortunate prisoner would follow their protector around, holding the inside of their turned out pocket to show everyone they had accepted their status. 
> 
> Comments are <3<3<3  
> Concrit welcome


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